Reflection
by RowenaSpaceclawWaters
Summary: OneShot-What if George never told his children about Fred? This was my first fanfiction and it's not my best but I thought I'd share it with you.


Roxanne Weasley was very excited. Her parents were coming to visit Dumbledore about something and she could show them the mirror she'd found recently. The dormitory door swung open as Lily strolled into the room, "your dad's here" she informed Roxanne.

George Weasley stood by the entrance of the Gryffindor common room, waiting for his daughter. Angelina had taken Fred to the quidditch pitch while George decided to wait. He didn't have to wait long! Roxanne leapt out of the portrait hole into her beloved father's arms. "Come" she beckoned for George to follow her " I've got something to show you".

They reached the mirror room quickly. She saw her dad study the mirror reading the inscription on the top, 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'. Roxanne couldn't wait, what a surprise her dad would get when he looked in the mirror and saw his greatest wish (for she had easily worked out what the mirror showed). She positioned him in front of the glass and simply said "look".

And look he did, for a lot longer than Roxanne expected. "Dad?" She whispered and saw tears running down her fathers cheeks, a steady river. She sat on the cold stone floor feeling sorry for her dad and herself. What did he see? He never cried in front of her, though she often heard him sobbing at night when he thought no one could hear him. She was scared. "Dad?" She said again, louder this time. He didn't responded, just stared silently at his reflection or whatever he could see. She tugged on his sleeve, "Dad!, come on!" He tore his eyes away and silently lead her out the door.

That night Roxanne lay awake, she could hear her father's muffled sobs from the bedroom next door. She didn't understand. Her father was never like this He always made them laugh by telling jokes at dinner, but today he just ate his meal in his study. Roxanne felt incredibly guilty, she knew it was her fault. But then, how was she to know that her father would find his greatest wish so upsetting? This was all very confusing. She wanted to know what was going on, and she knew where she might find out.

The next day, the Potters came round. But Roxanne hardly saw her aunt and father. She knew that this had something to do with yesterday. Her uncle and mother spoke in hushed tones before the kids were sent upstairs to play.

Teddy, Albus, Fred and James sprinted into Fred's room but Roxanne wanted to tell Lily all about the day before. Lily listened carefully throughout the tale, nodding occasionally. When the story was finished, she sat quietly in thought. Suddenly she stood up. "What?!" Roxanne was excited.  
"I just thought, has anyone in our family died?"  
"Well, yeah, there was that uncle who died in the battle of Hogwarts."  
"No one ever talks about him, though." Lily said, sadly. This time it was Roxanne's turn to stand up, she looked at her cousin.  
"Maybe that's because everyone was too upset!" She exclaimed.  
"Yeah, maybe him and your dad were really close or something." Lily added. Both girls looked at each other sadly. "I don't think we should ask your dad about it, or my mum. It might upset them." Roxanne nodded. But before she could say anything else, four excitable boys ran in demanding to play hide and seek. All thoughts of the mirror were driven from the girl's minds. For now.

Night fell, all were in bed, with the exception of one man. George Weasley was a talented artist. He could paint anything and everything. His study, which none of his children were permitted to enter, was covered in paintings. All of the same thing, memories. He and his brother. They were throwing snowballs, running a joke shop or just having a laugh. Fred smiled out at him from about fifty different canvases around the room. George added the final splashes of colour to his newest piece, Fred in the mirror, the mirror that his poor, well- meaning daughter had discovered. He stopped, how could he have been so blind? Roxanne must be feeling awful, what if she blames herself? George had no doubt that she did, she was just that sort of person. He decided to show Angelina his finished painting, he knew she would find some words of comfort for him, after all she missed Fred almost as much as he did.

He walked silently into their bedroom, Angelina was sound asleep. George hadn't the heart to wake her so just set the canvas down on a table near the door before settling down to sleep. Soon after he was snoring heavily so he did not notice the small hand that reached into the room and stole the prized painting.

Roxanne studied the picture she had found. It must have been made by her father. This was what he had seen in the mirror. It shocked her, to say the least. She thought her father's greatest desire would have been something better than this. She thought him very selfish. She crept into his room and put the drawing back, one question plagued her mind, denying her sleep. Was the most important thing to her father, whom she had always looked up to, really just getting his ear back?

Angelina loved the picture of Fred, but she loved all of her husband's drawings. She really thought that George ought to tell their children about Fred. George disagreed.  
"I find it to painful to talk about him, you know that. " he protested.  
"I do, and I understand. I just think its an insult to his memory if we act like he never existed." Angelina said kindly. George's body shook as he began to cry, and she hugged him gently. "I think Roxanne deserves to know, she saw you by the mirror on the last day of term. She's worried about you, I heard Lily and her talking about it yesterday and we have to tell Fred as well- he is named after your brother, after all" George nodded tears streaming down his cheeks.  
"I'll tell them later" he said, Angelina kissed him and left him alone, to think.

Roxanne saw her mum walk downstairs and quickly ran after her. She wanted to ask her about her dad, she was upset. Fred was already at the table demanding breakfast so her mum was busy, Roxanne ran up to her.  
"Mum!" She said, urgently. Angelina spun round in surprise.  
"Roxanne, I'm busy. Talk to me later." She had no time for this.  
"It's about dad, I'm confused." Roxanne looked up at her mum pleadingly, Angelina gave in.  
"Okay, what are you confused about?" She sighed. Roxanne told her the whole story of the mirror and her chat with Lily, of the picture and how she felt. "Darling," her mum whispered, "it's not the ear, he's going to tell you both about it later so I won't say anything now. It's taken him a long time to pluck up the courage to do this" Roxanne nodded to show she understood and then ran upstairs feeling a bit happier about the situation.

It was an hour after dinner and Roxanne was sat on the sofa wondering how so much could change in three days. Her mum was reading 'Quidditch through the ages', Roxanne suppressed a laugh at this, her mother had read this book more times than she could remember, in fact, she probably knew it by heart. Fred was writing a letter to Teddy Lupin, though this was more likely to be because Fred wanted to show of his new owl, Errol, than because he actually wanted to speak to his friend. Roxanne pondered the name of the owl, Errol. It is an odd name. But her father had thought of it and Fred said it was a good enough name so it stuck.

She was distracted from these thoughts by the entrance of her father. He had brought in a dozen or so easels which each held a canvas covered in a white sheet. Roxanne was sure these were pictures her father had painted, she felt a sudden rush of excitement.

George was nervous and close to tears. He took the sheets of each of the paintings in turn. By the time he took of the final one, tears were pouring out of him, as if he was a human drainpipe. He ran upstairs. Angelina sighed and followed her husband.

Fred got up immediately. He began studying the pictures carefully.  
"These are all of dad, with an ear, and... His twin? Come on, little sis, come have a look." He glanced at Roxanne, who was sat on the sofa, staring at the end canvas. "What? What are you looking at?" He strolled along, before his eyes settled on the one his sister was looking at. He wanted to scream, or puke, or both.

Twelve of these paintings were of two brothers, having fun. They were playing pranks on people in one and playing Quidditch in another. But the the last one sent chills down Roxanne and her brother's spines. They recognised their uncles: Ron and Percy. They saw their grandparents. And they saw their father, without an ear. Everyone in the picture had faces covered in dirt and they all seemed to be bleeding. But they were also all crying, not just upset crying but these people were absolutely distraught. And the two children could see why. A body lay in the middle of this woeful scene, a body that looked like their father (if you took of a few years) and suddenly Roxanne understood who the man in the mirror was and she wanted to curl up under her bad and never come out because see was so ashamed of thinking wrong of her father, her father who had been through a lot, her father who had seen his own twin die.


End file.
